


Contentment

by princessvicky01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Happily Ever Afters, Post Trespasser, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 06:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11224794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessvicky01/pseuds/princessvicky01
Summary: Short one off based on prompt. Post trespasser which is basically just tooth rotting fluff!Cullen x Annabel Trevelyan- SFW - fluff, romance, happily ever after - enjoying time together at Mia's





	Contentment

Mia had insisted she was inside somewhere, yet standing in the open country kitchen and scanning the humble living quarters Cullen finds them empty. A frown creases his forehead. Where in the name of the Maker had she gone now? It shouldn’t be so hard to find your wife, should it?

The frown turns into a light smile. His wife. Filling with warmth he continues the search and soon hears giggling from his nephew’s bedroom. It’s not the giggle of a child though. Ah. Approaching stealthy, he hovers in the door way to admire the scene before him.

Between two beds, blankets, cushions and bed linen from all over the house has been piled to create a make shift fort. Mia won’t be pleased but still he can’t help but give a chuckle as Annabel mildly tells Branson Jr. off for calling her ‘ma lady’.

Suddenly two heads poke out, lifting up the fabric roof to peer at him, before quickly darting back down with harsh whispers.

Prince, his faithful mabari, also finally notices his presence, and promptly jumps off a stripped bed to pad over with a lazily tail wag.

Kneeling to pet him Cullen strains to listen to the murmurs inside the fort, but despite his best efforts he can’t make out what’s being said. From nowhere both Annabel and Branson pop back up, throwing the blanket away to stand defiantly, brandishing wooden swords. He notes how the small boy mimic’s Annabel’s stance and puffs his chest out a little wider and the warmth already sitting in his chest blooms. She’s going to make a brilliant mother …

The thought however sends a jolt through him. Him. A father. Stubbornly he pushes the worry aside and stands as Annabel gives him an elaborate wink, one which he knows means he’s meant to ‘play along’.

“So, the Avvar have come to take the keep and you bring your furious war hound to do your dirty work?!” Her voice booms, taking on a hint of its leadership role, easily filling the room and demanding attention, despite the ridiculous nature of it all. His nephew’s rich brown eyes glimmer with excitement and Cullen can’t bear to crush their game so lets a smirk twitch his lip.

“Ay,” he nods, standing tall as if on full inspection. “The Avvar have as much right to these lands as you ma’ lady and we’ll claim them by force if we must.”

“You filthy Avvar scum!” The boy’s voice growls and Cullen is slightly taken back by the ferocity of it, he’s not sure his brother would be pleased to hear that tone.

“Sir Branson,” snaps Annabel. “Deploy the anti-war dog weapon.”

Cullen blinks and stares at her. The what? Before he knows it a rubber ball smacks him square in the chest, he gasps, one hand instinctively reaching for a sword which isn’t there. Prince begins to bark like mad, grabbing the ball on the bounce and running off with it, sliding into the wall on the wooden floor in his haste.

“He’s trained the mutt to steal our weaponry!” Annabel’s pitch is high in fake shock. “Sir Branson, retrieve our device at once or it may fall into the wrong hands!”

“Yes, Inquisitor!” The youth nods then swings his leg over the wall to climb, ungracefully, down the tower and rush after the hound. As he passes Cullen however he stops to give him a sharp whack with the flat of his sword before laughing and speeding away.

“You’re teaching him bad habitats, again,” remarks Cullen, rubbing at the spot on his thigh which stings lightly.

She shrugs then smirks at him. “So, what if I am? The brave Avvar warlord going to break into my keep and teach me a lesson?” She arches an eyebrow and cocks her iron replacement hand on her hip.

Words abandon him and everything just stops. All he can think, as he stands opposite his wife is - Maker she’s bloody gorgeous. Hair wild without care, no makeup, bright eyes glittering at him and a snug top which reveals just the hint of a growing bump. Their bump.

She glows, radiating light, the same way she always did. It was something that he’d always felt was missing from his life. From him. Until he met her. She illuminated even his darkest, bleakest, corners, forcing the shadows away. Whats more, she accepted and embraced what she found lurking in those dark places. Accepting him, completely, for who he was. 

How did he deserve this? To have such a naturally beautiful woman, carrying his child, stood in his sisters loving home, on a warm spring afternoon, smirking at him in a dirty way. He feels himself stir in reply.

“That I am, lass,” he drops his voice, trying to mimic the rough Avvar accent as his smirk turns wicked and his golden eyes darken. Lurching forward he clears the walls with a swift bound and captures her. Wrapping his arms around her, he drags her lips towards his and devours her with a kiss. Its deep and pure, conveying all the feelings his words cannot, his mouth slowly savouring hers, his tongue-

“EWWW!!!” 

The child’s cry breaks their passionate moment. He pulls away, feeling a rush of heat spread up his neck as he looks to his nephew whose nose is wrinkled in disgust. The ball, is held loosely in the boy’s grip by his side, as he stares in gross disbelief at them, that is until Prince snatches the weapon. 

With a mouthful bark the hound play bows at the boy then bounds off, presumably to run outside where there is space for the great lummox to play without crashing into furnishings. “Hey!” Branson is quickly out the door to chase down the thief.

“You know, they’ll be no peace once this little one comes along, especially since its half Trevelyan,” chuckles Annabel stepping back slightly to nod down at her belly, her hand idly rubbing over it.

“I have peace now?” Cullen asks, then winches as she smacks his thigh where the sword strike had been. “Ow!” Chuckling he holds his hands out to her.

“Come here,” he smiles softly and coaxes her back to cuddle snugly against his chest. He kisses the top of her head and rests his chin in her hair, letting his contentment flow out in his smooth calm tone. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, my lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3 Kudos and comments are all gratefully received!


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